It's an old ritual, an old circle, pulled together from ancient plains-lore and stolen tomes. The circle is drawn in honey, mixed with the ashes of burned out fires and the blood of ravens. It was meant to summon a powerful Slaaneshi daemon.

But the plains-lore is forgotten, and the she misunderstood the tomes. She draws the wrong kind of circle. She summons a demon, with no bindings, no protection.

"We have some recreational books, but we have plenty that are dangerous to read. I used instructions from a book to summon you, and that was probably the safest information in the book. So. Worthwhile checking that sort of thing.

Is there anything else we need the fairy to do, or should I... dismiss them, however that works."

He looks back at Luehmani. "If you want to dismiss her, you can do that by concentrating on doing so for a minute. All daeva you've summoned will also be dismissed instantly if you die, but obviously that's worse for most use cases. If you don't want to dismiss her, that's also fine."

"The idea that people don't believe in gods sound fake to me. They're rather.. present, around here. Or if not present, they make their presence known. What with the magic powers, resurrection and the not-your-kind-of-daemons running around.

Oh and the flat realms. Apparently your people find that deeply strange."

Leila Amjad is currently standing on a plane of dry ground, talking to someone who looks about eleven. It certainly doesn't look like Hell, nor does it match the descriptions he's read of Heaven or Fairyland.

Sigmar is sitting on an ornate throne, a finely crafted golden warhammer across his lap. His armour shines, not as a metal, but as something luminous, and crackles with lightning.

The room he is in could be described as a 'throne room', but would not do it justice. It is massive, with a frescoed ceiling depicting Sigmar riding across the sky, hammer held high and lightning at his back. Every spare piece of wall is adorned with either tapestry made by the deftest hands with the finest silk (depicting Sigmar, of course) or a statue of marble or jade or some other exotic material chiselled by the finest artisans (also of Sigmar, naturally.)

There is a phalanx of armoured warriors standing in front of him. Simon would recognise them as Stormcasts, though the colouration of their armour is different.